Mother's Day
by Fyrearth
Summary: A one-shot set in my Lady Liberty verse for Mother's Day. Yeah, title is uncreative. Rating is for some language.


Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

England hated May. It wasn't the weather—that was perfect for his garden—no, it was because of the one day all of his former colonies seemed to relish torturing him on.

Mother's Day.

Did he look like a bloody woman? Sure, he had raised quite a few of them from infancy, but that didn't mean he was a mother! What was wrong with being a father figure? There were plenty of good fathers throughout history, so why, _why_ did they all insist on treating him like a mother?

It was all America's idea originally. One of his citizens started it and, since their relations were (slowly) improving, the git decided to get him a Mother's Day gift. Him, the great British Empire! The gift hadn't helped their relations any (though England would never admit he still had the carved figures, one for each member of his extended family, in a box made by Australia hidden in his closet), but the others had learned about the new holiday and thus began the long tradition.

Every year, the colonies he had raised would send him a gift and call him for Mother's Day. Already he had gotten a basket of maple flavored foods from Canada, a eucalyptus plant from Australia and a new book from New Zealand. He was still expecting one from Hong Kong (complete with firecrackers like usual) and Seychelles which would probably be fish-themed.

He didn't have to worry about one from America anymore and hadn't had to since the early seventies. On the one hand, it was still depressing to think about because it meant the boy was gone; on the other hand, he never had to worry about receiving gifts on useless holidays.

Arthur brewed himself a cup of tea and sat down in his favorite armchair to read his new book. He may not like the day, but he wasn't one to turn down a good book and the lad had good taste in literature.

"Artie!" His front door burst open with a loud bang startling him.

Arthur set his tea and book down eyebrows coming together into one large caterpillar. He was clearly annoyed and the American girl chose to ignore it. She bounded into the room hands hidden behind her back wearing a huge smile. Unfortunately, he could never stay annoyed at her for long.

"Good morning Evelyn," he said with long-suffering patience. "I didn't expect to see you today." As far as he knew, the girl had plans to explore the city—again—for the day.

She bit her lip, a nervous habit that she had tried and failed to break. "Yeah, I kind of lied."

Now, he was confused. He hoped he had never given her a reason to lie to him. True, he was lying to her; well, not quite lying, just not telling the whole truth, but it was for her benefit!

"Why would you feel the need to do that?" He found the direct approach was generally the best for dealing with her.

Evelyn shuffled still keeping her hands behind her back. Finally, with a hasty flourish afraid she would back out at the last second, she presented him with a colorfully wrapped box complete with a bow.

"Happy Mother's Day Artie!"

Arthur glared at the offensive thing presented to him. She should've been the only one he didn't need to worry about and yet here she was giving him a gift for _Mother's Day_.

The girl shifted impatiently as he continued to stare unmoving. With a sigh, she sat down on the arm of the chair pushing the box into his lap. "I know you have a wicked gaze and all, but you can't open it by staring at it."

"Do I look like a woman to you?" Evelyn fell off the arm of the chair from the force of his shout. "Do I act like a bloody mother? Honestly, all of you are—are—ugh!" He didn't have the word to describe them all. Annoying? Frustrating? Children?

Evelyn started laughing not helping Arthur's mood.

"What are you laughing about?" he asked contemplating tying her up and locking her in one of the closets. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with her.

"Sorry," she held up her hands in a placating gesture trying to contain her laughter. "I never said you _look_ like a chick, but you do _act_ like a mother. I mean, seriously, the embroidery?"

"I'll have you know—!"

She kept going ignoring his protest. "You're also the biggest mother hen I've ever met." She picked herself up off the floor to sit on the couch. "Look, you're about the closest to a parent I've got so I wanted to get something for you. If it makes you feel any better I'll get you the ugly ass tie for Father's Day."

Refusing to be placated, Arthur picked up his tea again choosing to ignore her.

"The silent treatment? Come on," she rolled her eyes. "Will you at least open it?" She tried exasperated.

Arthur made a noncommittal noise taking his time to finish his tea and getting some satisfaction out of watching her squirm. She started fidgeting in her spot, but she could be just as stubborn as he when she wanted to be—Alfred had been like that when he really wanted something—and she wouldn't leave until she got what she wanted.

When his cup was empty, he set it back on the table and turned his attention to the wrapped box in his lap. It was nicely wrapped; the excessive amount of tape on one side told him she did it herself. He used his fingernail to rip open the tape on the other side and pulled out a square wooden box with a lid. Putting the paper aside, he removed the lid and was rewarded with…dirt.

"They're a different type than the usual ones you grow, but I saw some in the shop and they'll look really pretty with your other ones."

"My other…" he trailed off unsure what she was going on about then it hit him. "Roses? You're giving me rose seeds?"

"Yeah, I figured it wouldn't be as cliché and they would last longer too." She smiled brightly again waiting for his reaction.

The Brit ran his fingers lightly over the topsoil. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips and she knew she had done well. "I have to get these some water and the proper sunlight." He got up going towards the kitchen taking the box with him. Evelyn stayed where she was. At the door he looked over his shoulder to say "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Arthur sat down in his favorite armchair with his tea. A light summer shower was falling over London and he was letting it do the watering for him while he finished some paperwork.

"Artie!" His front door slammed open without warning and the ever-energetic American girl ran into the room presenting him with a colorfully wrapped box.

Arthur scowled. "What are you on about now?"

"It's June," she replied happily. She pushed the box into his lap urging him to open it.

He did revealing the ugliest tie he had ever seen. Lifting it from the box, he gave her a look and he wasn't pleased.

Evelyn started laughing. "I told you I would get you the ugly ass tie." She pulled out a smaller box from a pocket of her cargoes. "Here's your real present," she said handing it to him with a smile.

He continued to glare at her while he opened the smaller box. Inside was an arrowhead on a chain.

"I saw some of the other knick-knack stuff you had—you have a lot of old native jewelry from all over the world—so I figured you might like this. I found it myself and had a friend fix it on the chain."

England examined it closely. It was real reminding him all too much of the colonial days when America would bring such little things found on an afternoon's adventure. "Thank you," he told her quietly fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Happy Father's Day Artie."

A/N: So, this takes care of both days—my little tribute to all the mothers and fathers out there.

This came from my beta and I talking late at night. We have some weird conversations that late, but this was actually a pretty normal one. I hope you enjoyed!

Reviews are loved. Ttfn, ta ta for now!


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